12-28-2009, 09:22 PM
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Anselm had taken to Razekiel rather quickly and it seemed as if this case would prove much the same. They were family first and foremost--such a thing only carried as much weight as one allowed it, but beyond that they were also members of the same clan. By all rights the Caelum could claim no stronger ties to Razekiel than Samael, yet he found the former agreeable and amusing but the latter demented and volatile--consequentially, he would much more readily refer to the hippie coyote as his cousin while mentally distancing himself from the blood-eyed demon, though he technically had blood relations with neither. The pittance of blood shared between the two de le Poers was truthfully negligible, too, but he felt relaxed and comfortable in Rikka's presence, making him more inclined to latch onto that vague bond of kinship in turn. Needless to say, he wouldn't mind her company on one of his jaunts to the city, even though it usually made things a little less efficient. "I usually make at least a couple runs down every week, it wouldn't be any hassle.
"I reckon this place doesn't seem so bad to me, relative to where I grew up," he said, not bothering to elaborate further as the subject clearly made her uncomfortable. "I don't think things are usually so bad; most of the time you can talk your way out of anything sticky, but those tontos didn't seem like the talkin' type," he said, waving one hand around in slight exasperation. Again he wasn't sure much detail was necessary, but he figured anyone who understood the simple geometry of the situation would be forced to accept why he had reacted the way he did--he'd been boxed in an alley with no real way out except through the other wolves. He had read their intentions at once--even a moment's hesitation would have cost him dearly.
He grimaced slightly as she turned away, offering a sympathetic look and a soft sigh before looking back out into the rest of the world through the entrance of the den. "Don't get me wrong; not really a fan myself," he said, although he wouldn't have been offended if she didn't believe it. Anselm preferred the route of least resistance, and as he'd grown older he'd grown considerably more diplomatic--but that didn't mean he didn't have a blood-stained record on file, or that he'd hesitate to spill blood again (if necessary). "There's plenty of land, food, and water to go around here--it really shouldn't be so damn hard for everyone to just stay out of each others' hair. But at the same time, we can't be doormats. If we're provoked, we have to retaliate--we have to stand our ground or we'll just be made one with it, y'know?" he pressed, hoping she would at least see that sometimes, life gave them no choice but to react with violence. Ideals were all well and good, but he lamented that they were rarely realistic.
"I reckon this place doesn't seem so bad to me, relative to where I grew up," he said, not bothering to elaborate further as the subject clearly made her uncomfortable. "I don't think things are usually so bad; most of the time you can talk your way out of anything sticky, but those tontos didn't seem like the talkin' type," he said, waving one hand around in slight exasperation. Again he wasn't sure much detail was necessary, but he figured anyone who understood the simple geometry of the situation would be forced to accept why he had reacted the way he did--he'd been boxed in an alley with no real way out except through the other wolves. He had read their intentions at once--even a moment's hesitation would have cost him dearly.
He grimaced slightly as she turned away, offering a sympathetic look and a soft sigh before looking back out into the rest of the world through the entrance of the den. "Don't get me wrong; not really a fan myself," he said, although he wouldn't have been offended if she didn't believe it. Anselm preferred the route of least resistance, and as he'd grown older he'd grown considerably more diplomatic--but that didn't mean he didn't have a blood-stained record on file, or that he'd hesitate to spill blood again (if necessary). "There's plenty of land, food, and water to go around here--it really shouldn't be so damn hard for everyone to just stay out of each others' hair. But at the same time, we can't be doormats. If we're provoked, we have to retaliate--we have to stand our ground or we'll just be made one with it, y'know?" he pressed, hoping she would at least see that sometimes, life gave them no choice but to react with violence. Ideals were all well and good, but he lamented that they were rarely realistic.